


Best Served Cold

by satonawall



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Mermaids, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satonawall/pseuds/satonawall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the crew of her ship mutinies, pirate captain Santana Lopez is going to die. Or so she thinks.</p>
<p>Warnings: rape threats (no rape occurs or has occurred before); murder and/or suicide attempt</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Served Cold

Santana kept her chin up and the tears away from her eyes. Her crew didn’t deserve that satisfaction.  
  
“Step on the plank,” her former first mate, the brains of the mutiny, said, prodding Santana with the tip of his – her, and she’d really liked it, too – sword.  
  
Taking an even breath, Santana stepped. “You will regret this.”

“Sure,” the first mate said, tipping his – her – hat. “Tonight, I’ll sleep in the captain’s bed and I’ll really regret I didn’t have you in it before feeding you to the sharks.”

His words provoked an uproar of laughter from the group of men gathered to watch the execution of their captain, but it was, in a way, relieving for Santana. That, at least, they hadn’t done to disgrace her. She was going to her death as an usurped captain, not as a-

It wasn’t really a relieving thought.

At least they hadn’t turned her in to the port authorities. She’d heard drowning was a pleasant death, and being eaten by sharks was at least quick. Neither could be said for being dragged around in front of people to her court appearance and being starved in a cell for weeks before being walked, under the eyes of a hateful public, to the gallows to be hanged as slowly and painfully as possible. Her crew probably would have even been given a reward for turning in the notorious Santana Lopez, one of the most feared pirates on the known seas.

To be fair to them, they probably didn’t have the brains to come up with such a complicated scheme.

“’S not too late!” shouted someone from the crowd – the cook, maybe, Santana had always thought he was an even worse creep than the rest of them – and to Santana’s horror, the suggestion wasn’t met with laughter but with consideration.

“Why not?” her former first mate said, poking at Santana’s side with the sword again. “Come back here, I’ll show you what’s it like being with a man before the sharks get to you.”

She should have gone for someone smarter, Santana thought as she took a step back, so far away that the sword wouldn’t reach her unless its holder stepped on the plank as well. That just went to show that you always paid for your poor judgement, one way or the other.

“Frankly,” she said, “I’d rather sleep with the shark.”

She got a few laughs, just enough to anger her first mate to throw his – her – sword on the deck and get up on the plank.

“Let’s see if you’re as catty when I’m-“

He didn’t get any further before Santana’s well-timed kick to his groin forced him on his knees and almost into the sea, his hands barely catching hold of the plank before he tumbled down into the waves himself.

It was a good way to go, Santana thought. She could walk back to the ship and stomp on her first mate’s fingers, sending him down as shark bait, but that wouldn’t save her; the most boisterous member of the crew would just take his place and she’d have only paid for a few more extra hours with the complete loss of her dignity.

Sometimes, it was better to die a legend than to live on.

She’d have waved at her former crew but her hands were tied behind her back, so a smile had to do.

“So long, boys,” she said, walking backwards to the very end of the plank. “Just remember, when bad luck strikes you on my ship, I was always Fortune’s favourite.”

And with that, she jumped into the waves.

—-

She hadn’t been lied to; drowning really was quite pleasant if you didn’t fight it. She didn’t know how long it would be until she couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer, but she was already barely conscious.

It was a good way to go.

Something touched her side, probably a shark trying to get a grip on her, or else a smaller fish who’d found the treasure of its life almost buried in the ocean.

It didn’t matter, was Santana’s last thought. She was already so far gone that a shark’s bite felt more like a gentle kiss.

—-

She woke up, gasping, against a hard surface that was digging into the sword wound on her side really unpleasantly.

Barging up into a sitting position, she knocked her head on something that said, “Ouch!”

Santana propped herself up with her hands, looking around.

She was by the shore, on a relatively flat rock pushing out of the sea. For a fraction of a second, she thought she’d held her breath for long enough for the waves to bring her there of their own volition, but her hands were free of the ropes and, more importantly, when she thought to look down, there, by the rock in the water, sat a mermaid rubbing at her temple where it had collided with Santana’s head.

“No wonder you were falling so fast,” the mermaid said, looking up at her. “Your head is like a stone.”

Santana opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, like a fish out of water.

“You have a fish’s tail,” she finally said.

“I do not,” the mermaid said, leaving her temple alone and moving her hand to stroke the length of her scaly bottom half, culminating in the thin layer of scales or skin or whatever that made up her tail. “It’s my tail, and I’m not a fish. I’m Brittany.”

Santana took a deep breath. So the whispered tales of mermaids that you could hear at every sailors’ pub in every port were true, or could have been true; considering the nature of the tales, a lot of them were just flat out wishful thinking. All that meant was that mysteriously enough, Santana was alive and could still get back to her crew, revenge her usurpation and attempted murder in a proper way like she’d wanted to, not just an empty threat that hopefully would haunt some of them forever.

“I’m Santana,” she told the mermaid. “Thank you, Brittany, for saving my life.”

“It’s no problem.” Brittany pushed her fingers through her hair as if combing it, looking away from Santana as if the conversation was embarrassing. “I do it sometimes. I’m just sorry your crew threw you over. I heard some of it while I was hiding under your ship. They were really mean.”

“It’s okay,” Santana said. “Now I can fetch my buried treasures, buy myself a new ship with a crew that’s rightfully afraid of me and avenge myself. I will burn that ship to the ground.”

“Bottom.” Brittany pursed her lips. “It will burn on water, so when it’s burned it will sink down to the bottom of the sea. The fish will really like it, it did look great.”

Santana smiled at her. “Bottom, then.” She hesitated. “Brittany, I owe you my life. Whatever you want for a reward, I-“

Brittany blinked and bit her lip. After a moment, her eyes cleared and she sat up straighter. “I want to choose where you sink your old ship. I owe some fish a favour and I know they’d really like it.”

“I’ll sink it anywhere you want.” Santana reached out her hand, and Brittany took it; instead of shaking, though, she just held it while smiling up at Santana. “How will I contact you to tell you I’ve got my revenge and the ship is ready for your fish?”

“You can’t,” Brittany said. “I’ll just have to follow you everywhere to make sure I’m there to tell you when the time comes.”

It didn’t sound bad; Brittany had already saved her life, she’d shown she could be very useful.

Not to mention that Santana could probably use someone in her life who’d saved her life and only asked for a nice fish habitat in return.

She moved her hand so that her hand was holding Brittany’s like Brittany’s was holding hers.

“Deal.”


End file.
